


Risking Thorns

by waywardrose



Category: This Is Where I Leave You (2014)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Ice Skating, Phone Sex, Post-Canon, Reader-Insert, Semi-Public Sex, Slut Shaming, Spanking threat, Suburbia, Vaginal Fingering, bastardizing a jewish holiday, isn't phillip enough of a warning?, phillip gets a short leash, prickly reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:15:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23683762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardrose/pseuds/waywardrose
Summary: Once she pulled out of the parking lot, you asked, “So, where are we going?”“Altman’s? I thought you got your skates sharpened there, too?”Mental alarms went off as you shook your head. You knew the Altmans...
Relationships: Phillip Altman/You
Comments: 23
Kudos: 88





	Risking Thorns

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous said: Okay that gif set of Altman has me like 🤤 so here’s a prompt (if you’re taking them, if not that’s fine, let’s just gush over that man): one time you visit him at his home and he’s being all sweet but naughty and teasing so he just takes you to his childhood bedroom and fucks you against the wall while everyone’s calling you downstairs for dinner lol
> 
> WR: Thank you so much for offering me an Altman prompt! I love it. Yes, let’s gush all over him. I’ve been wanting to write with him for a while. And I figure I’ll probably never write with Phillip again, so I’m making it count.

You slid into the dasher boards for the third time. You simply couldn't maintain the speed for a single flip jump. You wobbled as you skated out of it, and consequently, kept falling on your ass. This shouldn't be so difficult. You'd made the jump last week.

Penny skated over, frowning. "Looks like your edges are dull," she said as she stopped in front of you, offering a hand up. "When's the last time you had them sharpened?"

You took her hand, dug a toe-pick into the ice, and let her haul you to your feet. She was much stronger than she looked.

"Before St. Patrick's Day?" you hedged.

Penny's eyes went wide, and you grimaced. It was already April, and you'd been going hard for the past three-and-a-half weeks.

"That was seven lessons ago!"

"I know."

"Have you been practicing between lessons?"

"Yes."

"Oh my god, no wonder!" She pushed off towards the open dasher door. "We're going to get those skates sharpened now."

"I can do it after practice."

She said over her shoulder, "You can't practice in those dull skates."

With a sigh, you followed her. She didn't comment as you sat beside her on the bench to take off your skates. You wiped the snow off the blades, dried the underside of the boots, and slipped on the soakers.

"You got ten bucks?" she asked as she packed away her skates and put on her sneakers.

"Yup!"

"Good, I'll get you my discount." She shouldered her skate bag as you finished tying your shoes. "Ready?"

You zipped your bag and stood. "Ready."

Penny closed down the rink and led the way to her car. You protested that you could follow, but she wouldn't hear it. She told you the store was on the opposite side of town from your place. It was better for her to drop you off at your car when you two were done than have you drive so much.

It was very sweet of her, and you thanked her.

Once she pulled out of the parking lot, you asked, "So, where are we going?"

"Altman's? I thought you got your skates sharpened there, too?"

Mental alarms went off as you shook your head. You knew the Altmans. They lived on the opposite end of your old street. Your father and step-mother, Diane, still lived there. You and the family had visited one day of the Altmans sitting shiva after Mort had passed.

That had been awkward as fuck. Dr. Altman had reminisced about her wedding night. Phillip had watched you the whole time, his phone screen going black. His girlfriend—a gorgeous redhead, _of course_ —had been softly talking to Diane about the psychology of grief.

You had sat there next to your father and pretended the whole situation was normal.

Though, maybe it had been normal. Phillip had always stared at you. When you'd been sixteen, and he'd been fourteen, you'd caught him peeking over the backyard fence to ogle you and your friends in the hot-tub gazebo. You'd chased him to his bike, him laughing the whole way.

"Thanks for the view!" he taunted with pink cheeks as he peddled away. "I'll be sure to remember you tonight!"

_"Ew!"_ you screeched, grass clippings sticking to your feet. "Perv!"

He cackled as he zoomed around the street hockey game.

Phillip Altman had been a burr under your saddle for the rest of high school. Not because he'd said anything, because he hadn't. You'd been constantly aware of him, especially as he matured. A lot of girls had taken notice when his shoulders filled out and his nearly-black hair had gotten shaggier— _pullable_ —and he joined cross-country.

You'd rolled your eyes at them, knowing him to be a desperate little peeping-tom.

You recall watching _Fast Times at Ridgemont High_ and wondering if Phillip's jerk-off fantasy was similar to Brad's. Did you step out of the hot tub in a red bikini and undo your top before kissing him? Or did he join you in the hot tub to feel you up?

Sometimes you wanted to drown him in that storyline. Sometimes you let him touch you. The one scenario that made you squirm was of you sitting on the edge of the tub and forcing his stupid face between your legs.

In those fantasies, you ruined him for anyone else. Oh, he'd flirt with other people, but he always ran to you after school. Or sometimes late at night when you were supposed to be sleeping. You imagined him sneaking in your window, eager and clumsy. He'd fall into your bed and beg to be fucked.

Then you grew up and went off to college. Your fantasies grew up with you, and you didn't really think of Phillip. Oh, you heard the occasional gossip from friends who had stayed behind. You remember a friend sharing a piece of juicy news of Phillip stringing along four girls until he was caught with his jeans around his knees. The best part was that he hadn't been with one of the girls. No, he'd been with one of their cousins.

You'd snorted at Phillip's antics, thinking what a messy slut he'd grown into.

But now you've returned home. And Phillip lingered at the back of your mind, messy slut and all. You'd seen through your Facebook feed Altman's Sporting Goods' redesign and Christmas discount. You knew it was where Diane had purchased your skates. She'd also bought the initial skating lessons to go with them.

Penny pointedly said your name, shocking you out of your memories.

"What?" you asked.

"Altman's? Don't you get your skates sharpened there?"

You shook your head. "No, I go to the Dick's by work."

"Well, Altman's is nicer."

You doubted that, but kept it to yourself.

However, you were quickly proven wrong. A new awning hung over the display windows. Gone was the wood paneling and stained ceiling tiles. The store remained cozy and obviously family-run, but there was a streamlined vibe that made it feel fresh.

Midstore, Penny called, "Horry?"

A handsome guy with salt-and-pepper hair popped up from below the service counter. He looked at both of you for a beat before grinning.

"Hey, Penny," he mildly greeted.

"Hey, my girl here needs her skates sharp—"

From the backroom, a male voice cut in. "Do I hear my hottest sister-in-law?"

Your stomach clenched as you recognized that voice. You gripped your bag tighter and told yourself you wouldn't turn away.

"I'm not your sister-in-law," Penny replied just as Phillip leapt through the curtained employees-only doorway.

Phillip sing-songed, "Not ye~et!"

Penny sighed and told you she was dating Judd, Phillip's older brother. You hadn't known that. You knew she was dating _a_ Judd, but it had never connected, and she'd never used his last name.

Now you remembered why you hadn't wanted to move back after college. This town was so small and incestuous.

"Anyway!" Penny said just as Phillip breathed your name.

He beamed. _"Holy shit!"_

He'd grown up, evidently. His longer hair covered those ridiculous ears, but the facial hair only highlighted his plush mouth. If anything, he'd gotten broader since you last saw him. It was obvious he worked out with the way his thin sweater clung to his arms and chest.

"Hi," you replied and placed your bag on the counter.

Penny and Horry looked between you and Phillip, like it was a tennis match.

"You know each other?" Penny asked you.

Horry interjected, "He had a crush on her in high school."

"What?!" Phillip slapped Horry's shoulder, eyes going big. _"No._ She lived down the street."

Penny fully turned to you. "What?"

"Yeah, my family's at the other end," you said, trying to ignore the crush comment.

Horry continued, "Wendy told me he used to ride his bike past her house."

"I rode my bike around the neighborhood," Phillip said, voice tight.

After a second of awkward silence, you said, "Whatever," and opened your bag. "I need my skates sharpened."

"You skate now?" Phillip asked.

"No, I use them to chop vegetables."

Undeterred, he said, "No wonder you look so good."

Your face blazed with heat at that, but you pulled your skates out and took off the soakers. Horry ducked in front of Phillip and took the skates. He examined the edges, commenting they were pretty dull.

"I know," you agreed. "I thought I could get away with one more practice."

Penny said, "Instead you wiped out, what? Two, three times?"

"At least three," you sighed.

"Are you okay?" Phillip asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm used to it."

One of the first things Penny taught you was how to fall. It had saved you from so many sprained wrists and bruised tailbones.

Phillip asked, "Are you sure? We have cold packs."

"I'm sure you'd volunteer to hold them on her, too, wouldn't you?" Penny teased.

As Horry took your skates to the sharpening machine, he grumbled, "And more."

Phillip winked with a cock of his hip. "All about the customer service here at Altman's."

You couldn't stop your grin as you shook your head. Phillip might be a messy slut, but he was a charming one. Behind him, the sharpening machine whirled on.

"Speaking of cold packs," Penny began and propped her elbows on the counter. "Your mom only asked me to bring ice and pop for Passover. Is that okay?"

Phillip rolled his eyes. "It's just Easter dinner. She ordered a decidedly un-kosher bunny cake, and her and Linda are dyeing eggs as we speak."

"So, your family isn't Jewish?" you asked as you mirrored Penny's position at the counter and wondered why they'd sat shiva then.

"Not really, Dad was, but we never went to temple."

You opened your mouth to ask why call it Passover if it was really Easter.

Penny said to you, "Don't worry, I didn't get it either until Judd explained what his mother was doing."

"Which was?"

"Getting us under one roof for a change," Phillip replied. "Now she can't get rid of us."

"Hey!" Penny straightened with a bright smile. "You should join us!" She grabbed your forearm and then looked to him with a nod.

You said, "Well—"

"No, it'll be fun! You have any plans Easter Sunday?"

You glanced at Phillip before shaking your head. "No, Easter really isn't a thing for my family."

Actually, Diane was taking your father upstate for the week, starting tomorrow. You'd agreed to check the mail and eat the perishables.

"Then you should come!" Penny insisted. "I know Hilary will be thrilled to see you."

Phillip put a hand near yours and lowly said, "Yeah, you should come."

His innuendo wasn't lost on you. You stubbornly met his eyes, daring him to say more.

Without breaking eye contact with Phillip, you said to Penny, "If it's okay with Dr. Altman, I'd be honored."

"Cool! I'll text her right now!"

Phillip smirked and slid his hand off the counter, his pinkie finger brushing yours. Your skin tingled, but you refused to acknowledge the touch. If he wanted a reaction, he'd have to do more than stroke your finger.

* * *

You heard the chaos before you rang the doorbell. When the door opened, your ears were assaulted by the excited shrieking of children. Wendy gave you a tired smile and welcomed you inside. The aroma of delicious food surrounded you. You handed her two bottles of good red wine from your father's stores in the basement.

"Oh, thank Christ for these," she muttered.

You took off your long cardigan. "Sounds kinda intense in here," you said as you hung it on the coat rack by the door.

Something thumped in the living room. Phillip congratulated someone on a good job and then yelled, "Superman!"

"Mom gave them pre-dinner cookies," she explained.

You didn't know if Phillip was part of "them" or not.

You added, "Not to mention the chocolate."

Wendy looked to the heavens. "I hate Easter."

"Holy sh—" Phillip began from the doorway to the living room, but Wendy spun to face him. _"—crap."_

Phillip was covered in children. He had a little girl hoisted above his head, an older boy on his back, and a younger girl latched onto his leg. As if on cue, a giggling toddler in a fluffy pink dress waddled behind him.

"Alright, monkeys!" Wendy said. "Get off your uncle."

Wendy's kids protested, but maneuvered off Phillip, only to zoom into the living room. He put the little girl down, and she skipped off in the opposite direction. The toddler took one look at you and jerkily galloped over, chubby little arms waving in the air.

At first you didn't know what to do. Kids didn't usually care one way or another about you.

"Pretty flower!" the toddler exclaimed.

You looked down at your floral maxi-dress. It was indeed covered in flowers.

"This is Olivia," Wendy introduced the toddler. "She's Paul and Annie's."

You greeted Olivia and displayed the skirt for her to examine. She grabbed fistfuls of fabric to balance herself and happily cooed. You smiled at her and asked which one was her favorite. She pointed to a generic blue flower.

"You look nice," Phillip said, though you could tell he wanted to say _sexy._

You really looked at him, seeing him without the layer of children. He wore a gray-blue oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up and charcoal-toned slacks. He looked good in blue. His slacks hugged his thighs, and the vee of his open shirt collar displayed just enough chest.

"So do you," you replied.

"And I'm going to take this nice wine into the kitchen," Wendy announced.

You and Phillip stood in a tricky silence until Olivia tugged on your skirt. When you looked down, she lifted her arms to be picked up. How could you say no? You scooped her up and rested her on a hip. She cuddled close and gently patted the closest flower motif on your upper chest.

"Thanks for coming," he said.

You were so tempted to reply that you hadn't yet, but you shrugged instead.

"Thanks for inviting me."

"Uh..." He glanced to the side and rubbed his hands on his slacks. "Everyone's back here," he said and thumbed to his left.

Quick footsteps and Dr. Altman calling your name stopped Phillip from leading you farther into the house. Dr. Altman stepped into the foyer and gave him an exasperated-mother look before turning to you.

She smiled, bright and welcoming. "Oh, honey, it's so good to see you!" She came for you with open arms and nodded at Olivia. "I see someone else wants you all to themselves!"

Dr. Altman hugged you and Olivia, who laughed and wiggled with excitement in your arms. She took Olivia from you and asked how you were. You replied that you were good, that you couldn't complain.

"Thank you for the wine, by the way," Dr. Altman added. "It'll go so well with the lamb."

"Oh, it's no problem..."

You glanced over her shoulder to see Phillip watching you in his particular, deep way. It was difficult to look away.

Dr. Altman cleared her throat and turned to Phillip. "Why don't you show her what the kids did with the garden?" To you, she said, "Dinner should be out in ten minutes."

As Dr. Altman walked back to the kitchen, Olivia waved at you. You smiled and waved back.

"She takes after Annie," Phillip said.

"She's so sweet."

"Eh, not to everyone," he said as he pivoted, holding out an arm towards the living room.

"Like you?" you teased as you passed.

"Only when I deny her something."

He showed you through the toy-strewn room to the French doors at the back of the house. He opened a door for you. The evening was cool, and you wished you hadn't taken off your cardigan. Overhead, the sky was turning purple. Though the backyard wasn't deep, it was lush. The evergreen bushes lining the perimeter were swagged in multicolored fairy lights. Plastic Easter eggs dangled from the branches of a petite Japanese maple by the patio. On the patio table were a few colorful baskets full of fake grass and dyed eggs.

You hummed before asking, "You do that often?"

"Do what often?" he returned as he closed the door behind himself.

You crossed your arms in an attempt to keep your body heat. Also, it would be embarrassing for your nipples to poke through your dress right now.

"Deny girls what they want," you clarified as you sauntered to the table.

"Almost never."

You bit your bottom lip and grinned before warmly saying, "I bet you don't."

"Yeah, I like giving girls what they need."

You glanced at him to see his dark eyes glittering in the multi-tonal light. He gave you a little smirk.

You ask, "And you know what that is?"

"Sometimes." He almost looked coquettish as he raised a shoulder. "Usually."

"You should add 'mind reader' to your resume, then."

He said, "That sounds like boasting."

You stopped at the short end of the table and leaned a hip on the edge. "And you never boast."

"Nah, I prefer honesty."

"Did you always prefer it?"

"No," he said as he drew closer.

"So, Phillip, what do you think I need?"

He studied your face for a moment. "That's something I've been trying to figure out."

"Any progress?" you asked and looked into his eyes.

"No, not really."

"You could just ask, you know."

He leaned closer, almost boxing you in. You could just detect his cologne. It was nice, citrusy and spicy.

His voice was soft as he asked, "What do you need?"

"My cardigan." You squared your shoulders. "I'm cold."

"I could warm you up," he offered and wet his bottom lip.

You wouldn't take his bait. Not yet.

"Or you could actually take care of me and usher me inside," you said and unfolded your arms to rest a hand on the table.

You had bait of your own. His gaze followed your movements. He stared at your chest for a second. The flattering v-neckline of your dress and a good bra guaranteed you looked your best.

He murmured, "Do you want to go inside?"

"I don't think we'll have much of a choice."

"There's always a choice."

You knew he wanted you to choose him, and you were sorely tempted. He was surprisingly respectful, charming, and handsome. And kissable. He hadn't even touched you yet, either, though you knew he wanted to.

"Hey, you two!" Penny brightly called from the family-room French door. "We're setting the table now."

Phillip stepped away as you straightened. He put a hand at the small of your back as he walked with you into the house. It might've been the first contact you'd ever had with him.

The house was decidedly less noisy now, though still chaotic. You were introduced to the little girl who Phillip had been carrying. She was Judd's—who was already in the dining room. Paul offered a quick _"hey"_ as he passed with the lamb roast. Horry manned the wine. Annie hugged you, saying it was great to see you.

"Under better circumstances, too," you agreed.

Annie blew out a breath with a nod.

You picked up a serving bowl full of honey-glazed baby carrots from the kitchen counter, carrying it into the dining room. The chandelier was turned low. White votive candles flickered from the table and sideboard. The prepared Seder plate and basket of matzos sat at the center of the crowded table. You nudged the bowl of carrots between the baked mac-and-cheese and rice pilaf.

There were eleven adult seats to choose from. It was going to be a tight fit. You floundered until you were directed between Phillip and Linda, Horry's mother. You introduced yourself to her, because you couldn't assume she'd remember you from the shiva. She gave you a welcoming smile and said she was pleased to finally meet you. From across the table, Judd gave you a friendly wave.

"Are we ready?" Dr. Altman asked as she settled Olivia in a high-chair at the corner of the table.

She took her place at the head of the table, grandchildren on either corner, and held out her hands for them to take. It seemed to be a cue, because everyone bowed their heads and took hands. Phillip's engulfed yours.

Dr. Altman didn't lead a prayer nor did she prompt the kids to ask the four questions. She talked about family, mentioning Mort and how long it had been. You gave Phillip's hand a squeeze, and he squeezed back.

When she finished and blessed the food, you met Phillip's eyes. He wasn't close to tears, but you could see a lingering sadness. You tried to express your sympathy with a look, but you didn't know if it worked.

Right then, Wendy's boy imitated Frankenstein as he said, "Want food!" and held out his hands towards the mac-and-cheese.

The table erupted with laughter while Wendy admonished him. The boy, Cole, offered a sheepish grin and pulled Wendy's chair out for her. That appeared to appease her.

Paul took over carving the lamb as everyone else sat. You ended up being hip-to-hip with Phillip. It wasn't the worst seating situation. His thigh pressed to yours in a long line of heat.

While side-dishes were passed around, wine was poured and life-updates were shared. Phillip told a story about helping an older lady find the proper skis—which he didn't think was safe for her, but they needed the sale. She had insisted on purchasing an outfit that showed off her "best assets."

"So I'm showing her all these ski pants, and she _hates_ them," he said. "The jackets aren't right. She doesn't like the details. The ski goggles cover too much of her face.

"So I ask her to give me an idea of the perfect outfit. I mean, we gotta have something.

"She gives me this look and says—" He cleared his throat to primly say, "'That's only for my husband's eyes.'

"I throw my hands up because I don't want to hear her explain _that._ I tell her I mean for skiing—like how does she think she should look plowing down a mountain.

"She says, 'I want to look sexy.'

Judd said, "For her husband."

"Exactly. Now I don't know what to say to that." He gestured with his utensils. "I show her our remaining stock of bikinis. Because I'm fu— I'm lost. She doesn't like those, of course. I end up selling her a thermal top and leggings and a figure-skating skirt."

Horry added, "She also got a sweatshirt."

"That was, like, a juniors'."

"You mean one of those bedazzled ones from before school started?" asked Paul.

"Yes! Thirty percent off!" Phillip knocked his knee into yours as he told you: "They say stupid shit like 'relax' or 'xoxo' on the chest."

You ask, "Which one did she buy?"

"A pink one with 'love' in gold foil."

You smile and duck your head, trying to imagine what this poor woman looked like. And how cold she must've been. When you straighten, you turn to him and find him close. His gaze swept over your face, but paused at your lips.

He murmured, "How's skating going?"

"Good." You smiled. "Sharp blades have helped."

He grinned. "I bet."

"How about you? You still run?"

He nodded. "I sometimes go through Nassau Knolls."

"The cemetery?"

"Yeah," he replied with a shrug. "It's quiet, close to my place. Dad's there."

Before you respond, Olivia slapped her hands on the high-chair table and yowled, "Pretty flower!"

It was instinctual to see what she needed. She looked at you and made grabby-hands. Paul tried to distract her with a low, calm voice and little bite of lamb. Annie looked between you and her daughter. You gave Annie a shrug and confused head shake.

Next to her, Olivia fussed and whined, dodging the small fork.

Phillip said, "We'll take her."

"She can feed herself, I swear," Annie laughed.

"Yeah, but she wants to be with the cool kids."

You asked, "Is that what we are?"

"Yeah, duh," he answered and scooted away from the table.

Paul passed Olivia's plate, tiny utensils, and sippy cup to you. Phillip hoisted Olivia out of her high-chair with the promise of many pretty flowers. You made room for her plate between yours and Phillip's.

She calmed after just seconds of being on Phillip's lap and babbling to you. She wiggled until she had her butt on him and a leg on you. It was a tight fit for the three of you, but a sweet one. He secured her with one arm around her middle and ate one-handed. Luckily, the lamb was tender enough to cut with a fork.

The rest of the meal went by quickly. The bunny cake was carrot cake with cream-cheese frosting and shredded coconut. With how good it was, you guessed it came from that place in Plandome Heights.

You tried to assist with the clean-up, but you were only allowed to stack the dirty plates near you. After Paul took a groggy Olivia from you, the family seemed to disappear all at once. That left you with Phillip to blow out candles and gather table linens.

"Would you like a house tour?" he offered, giving you a sly look.

His meaning was clear. You wondered how many women had fallen for that.

"I don't think so."

"You've never seen the second floor."

"And why would I need to?"

Someone called your name, interrupting the conversation. You thought it sounded like Annie, and you were proven right when she breezed into the dining room a second later.

"Olivia's birthday party's next weekend," Annie began. "I know this is short notice, but we'd be thrilled for you to come."

"I..."

You glanced at Phillip, but all he did was nod.

"I've never seen her so—" Annie grinned and imitated Olivia's grabby hands. "—with someone before!"

"Should I bring anything?"

"No, of course not!"

"Okay, sure." You smiled. "I'll wear something floral."

Annie laughed and thanked you, telling you the party was here on Saturday at noon.

As she left, Phillip grinned at you like he thought you were a big softie. You rolled your eyes and folded the tablecloth in on itself. Olivia was delightful, and if showing up for her party made her happy, you'd be there.

"I guess I'll see you next weekend," he said as he took the wad of tablecloth from you.

You plucked the stack of dirty cloth napkins from the sideboard. "I guess you will."

As he led the way to the storage closet by the kitchen, he said, "Maybe I can give you that house tour then."

"How many people have you offered that to?"

He opened the closet and dumped the tablecloth in the laundry chute before answering, "What if I said it's only you?"

You scoffed as you handed him the napkins. "I'd say you were full of shit."

"I am," he sunnily conceded as he tossed the napkins down the chute.

You rolled your eyes again and walked into the kitchen. Dr. Altman noticed you first and looked surprised to see you. You thanked her for dinner, saying everything was wonderful and that you were looking forward to Olivia's birthday party.

She came around the kitchen island to hug you one more time.

"It was wonderful for your having been here!" she said as she ended the hug. "I hope Phillip has been a good host...?"

Phillip grunted behind you.

"So far, so good!" you replied.

"Good! Have him walk you to your car—oh!" She stepped away and said over her shoulder: "Before I forget, I made you a plate to take home."

She quickly returned with a foil-covered paper plate. It was heavy and warm with food. You thanked her again and said your good-nights to everyone, telling Penny you'd see her at practice. Phillip took the plate out of your hands and ushered you to the front door. He opened the door as you slipped on your cardigan and confirmed your keys were still in the pocket.

"Where'd you park?" he asked, scanning at the cars in front of the house.

"Down at Dad's."

He closed the door after you. "Well, now I definitely need to walk you to your car."

"As if anyone on this street's worse than you," you joked as you strolled down the front walk.

"Aw, I'm not so bad, am I?"

You smiled at him, and he returned it.

"No, you're not so bad."

"Maybe even good enough to take you out?"

You stopped where the front walk met blacktop. He turned to you, his face painted gold from the yard light.

You asked, "Is that what you really want? To date me?"

"And more."

"Emphasis on the 'more' part, I'm sure."

You stepped around him, even while mentally berating yourself. You didn't know why you kept bringing up his libido, his obvious interest in you, like it was unwelcome. That had never bothered you before in anyone else. You weren't even offended by it. Other people had expressed sexual interest in you, and sometimes you even reciprocated.

"Wait," he said. "Hold up."

You slowed your pace.

When he caught up in a few strides, he said, "Look, I like you. I'm very interested in you." Aluminum foil crinkled in the dark. He murmured, "I've been interested for years."

You couldn't forget his previous antics, though. His beautiful girlfriend at the funeral. The possible partners who came after.

"What happened with that one girlfriend? At the funeral."

"I fucked it up."

"What did you do?"

"Cheated."

"You were in town for, what, a week? And you couldn't maintain?!"

"Things had been going south for a while, okay? She was too good for me, and I knew it, and she never let me forget it."

"Oh, so she berated you daily?"

That seemed unlikely.

"No! It's just... She was smart and-and... _composed_ —better—and I tried to get on her level, but I just couldn't."

"Well, don't blame her for you not being able to catch up." You sped your steps. "You hooked a big fish and didn't know what to do with it. That's not the fish's fault."

"I know, alright!?"

"And what makes you think we're on the same level?"

He matched your pace easily enough with his long legs.

"I don't know. All I know is that I've been— I've wanted you since my balls dropped."

"Wow," you laughed, harsh and bitter. "How vivid."

Phillip wrapped a hand around your elbow to stop you. You twisted out of his hold, taking a step back.

"Don't touch me," you growled. "You haven't earned the right to touch me."

"I'm sorry. You keep running away from me."

"I'm leaving your bullshit is what I'm doing."

"There's no bullshit here." He gestured between you with the leftovers plate. "I want to date you. I want to know you. And okay, I'd like to fuck you. I didn't know you weren't interested."

"You're interested now. In a week or a month, after you've had me, you'll get distracted by the next pretty woman who crosses your path."

"No—"

_"Yes._ You'll hop from one bed to another—like you always have."

"How the fuck do you know what I've always done?"

"Jesus, Phillip, this is not the big city."

"Have you heard anything lately? Huh?" He leaned in, and even in the dim you could see his hurt, pinched expression. "No, you haven't. I haven't been with anyone in months."

"Because no one wants sloppy seconds anymore?"

You knew that was wrong the second it came out. You didn't even believe it.

He pulled back with an incredulous huff. "Here." He thrust the plate at you. "You can keep your mixed signals. I'm going home."

You stared down at the foil, knowing if you took the plate, he'd walk away for good.

"Why have you been single for so long?" you asked.

"Why the fuck do you care? Just take the plate already."

"I care. I'm asking. Why?"

"Because Tracy—from the funeral—was right about me." You didn't know what she'd been right about, but you didn't interrupt him. "After her, I tried with Chelsea, and that blew up in my face." He shook his head. "I was on Tinder..." He shrugged. "It was fun for awhile."

"And then?"

"I figured out what should've been obvious years ago."

You remained quiet, watching him in the darkness between porch lights. He gnawed on his bottom lip while throwing glances your way.

"I want— Not that. I want... _I don't know._ More?" he finally said.

You thought of your father with Diane. They loved each other in this beautiful, steady way. Penny and Judd seemed to have that, just like Annie and Paul. Maybe you read the relationship between Dr. Altman and Linda wrong, but there appeared to be great love between them.

It was appealing.

You never thought you'd have it, either.

Yet here was Phillip Altman—of all people—declaring he wanted the same thing.

"I want that, too," you softly said as you nodded. "And I'm sorry I called you sloppy seconds. You're not. No one is. I'm just..."

"An asshole?" he finished for you, though not unkindly.

You offered an apologetic grin-grimace. "Sometimes."

"Can I have your number, anyway?"

You laughed and nodded. He pulled his phone from his front pocket to hand it to you. It was already unlocked, and you typed in your number as you walked down the street. You sent yourself a text:

_I had a crush on you in hs and rode by yr house every day_

You sent a string of heart emojis before closing the chat and handing the phone back. He traded the plate for the phone since you were almost at your father's house.

Your car sat in the driveway, parked a little off-center. You stopped at the mouth of the driveway and turned to Phillip.

"Thanks for walking me to my car," you said.

"We're not there yet."

You backed up the driveway, a grin on your face. He followed. When you reached the driver-side door, you placed the plate on the roof.

The dark made your voice hushed as you said, "There. We're here."

As he drew closer, he asked just as softly: "Can I finally touch you?"

"Depends on where you want to touch me."

"Anywhere you'll let me."

"How about you start with a kiss."

He grinned with a raise of an eyebrow. "Kiss where?"

You laughed, leaned against the car, and hooked a finger under his belt to tug him to you. He braced himself on the car with one hand and tilted your head up with the other. You watched his gorgeous face to the last second.

When his full lips met yours, it knocked the air from your lungs. You angled your head to get more, kiss harder. He groaned from deep inside his ribs and pressed himself all along your front. Your breasts mashed against his hard chest.

He parted his lips, and his tongue teased the seam of yours. You held onto his tight waist, pulling him impossibly closer, and sucked at his bottom lip. He tasted of wine and carrot cake. He gasped and rolled his hips as you followed that delicious combination with your tongue.

His big hand cradled your jaw as his tongue slid over yours. His goatee scratched your skin. Everything felt better than you'd anticipated. His cologne made you want to bask against his naked skin or rub yourself all over him like a cat. You distantly realized why no one ever refused him.

He broke the kiss to pant against your lips: "Let me make you come. I'll make it good. Just let me touch you."

The thought of those hands between your legs had your gut clenching. Your cunt pulsed, and he looked at you like he knew it. You scraped your bottom lip with your teeth, tasting his spit, and nodded.

Maybe it was a mistake, but it didn't matter right now.

He groaned and hid his face in your neck. "Thank you," he breathed as his hand went from your jaw to your chest.

He cupped one of your breasts, fondling you and making your breath catch. His hand felt huge and hot, and you wanted it on your pussy. He kissed your neck and whispered a curse.

With one hand, you drew your dress up your thigh. As he moved a little to the side, the heavy bulge of his erection dragged across your belly. If his cock was like his broad frame and big hands, you knew you'd be sore after. You looked forward to it, too.

Phillip's hand smoothed down your torso until he touched your bare thigh. He trailed back up until he found your underwear. He palmed you, and you spread your thighs.

He whispered in your ear, "Fuck, you're so soft."

His muted touch had you angling your hips.

"Don't stop."

He moaned against your neck and rooted under your dress to find the waistband of your underwear. You let go of your dress to grip his shoulder. His hand snaked down your body until two thick fingers slid right between your wet folds.

Your eyes went wide as you gasped. The simple touch had you quivering.

"This is what I've wanted," he breathlessly murmured as he found your clit.

"Yeah?" you asked and rolled against the pads of his fingers. "Creamed your jeans thinking about fingering me?"

"You have no idea."

"Maybe I don't. Why don't you show me."

He silently accepted the challenge and circled your clit. It was the right pressure, so good and just firm enough.

"So wet," he praised. "Wanna bend you over the car."

"Thought you'd be into the hot tub."

"Oh fuck." His fingers stilled, though he kept the pressure. "That's still there?"

"Got a new one a few years ago."

"I wanted you to ride me in that."

"Later," you whined and squirmed.

"Yeah, later," he agreed before sliding his middle finger inside you.

The heel of his palm pressed against your mound. His finger massaged your cunt, stroking your walls and teasing your g-spot. You fisted his hair and maneuvered his head to kiss him again. His mouth was lush and hungry and _perfect._ You couldn't get enough of his kisses.

He rocked his hand, keeping the pressure on your mound and inching his finger in and out of you. You groaned against his lips and writhed. It wasn't enough, and he had to know it.

"C'mon, give me what I need," you said through gritted teeth.

"Yes, ma'am."

He eased out and circled your clit again. You nodded, biting your lip and holding still. He began slow and used two fingers to keep the stimulation going. Your legs wobbled, and you jerked against him. An arm slithered between your back and the car.

"I gotcha."

You clung to him and swayed with his fingers. You kept moving until he was going too fast. Letting your forehead rest on his shoulder, you panted as the pleasure swelled. It licked like fire up your spine.

There was nothing but heat and tension. You were grateful he held you tight. You wanted to kiss him again, but you couldn't move. If you did, you'd lose the thread of pleasure. But the thought of his clever mouth— _fuck, his tongue._ You thought of it everywhere.

"Oh shit..." you whimpered.

He kissed your temple. "That's it. You're gonna come—all over my hand."

Your thoughts fractured like glass, because you were going to come just like he wanted you to. It was suddenly right there. That licking flame became stronger, hotter, until it blazed. You muffled your cry in his shirt as you came. Your cunt throbbed like a second heartbeat. It didn't stop. You burned and clawed and sweated in Phillip's strong arms.

His fingers stilled and shielded your clit as your cunt continued to contract. You strained and shuddered, biting the cotton of his shirt as your pussy pulsed one last time.

You put a hand at the nape of his neck to pull him in for a kiss. He devoured you, nipping at your lips and holding you tight. His wet fingers smeared over your skin as he gripped your hip.

"Anyone home?"

You shook your head.

"Take me inside, then," he murmured. "I'll fuck you all night. Do anything you want."

You blinked away the haze of orgasm and caught your breath. Inside meant getting his cock in you. You imagined his hands holding your hips, fingers digging hard enough to leave bruises. You want to see him spread naked on the living room carpet where the coffee table usually was. Also, Dad and Diane wouldn't be back until Wednesday.

However, you couldn't. Work started at nine tomorrow, and you couldn't take time off to ride Phillip Altman all day. Though, the thought was very appealing.

"Can't. Work," you replied.

He opened his mouth to protest, but you placed a finger on his lips.

"Really. I can't."

You traced the edge of his kiss-swollen lips. He stared at you with gleaming dark eyes.

"When?" he asked.

"I don't know. Soon?"

"After the party on Saturday."

"Okay." You nodded. "After."

"It's gonna be a long week."

To assuage his suffering, you rose to kiss him again. His grip on your hip tightened as he kissed you ravenously. He sucked on your bottom lip and rolled his hips against yours. He almost made you forget yourself, your surroundings, your responsibilities.

You pulled his hair and broke the kiss. He groaned, and you felt his erection pulsate between your bodies. You shushed him as you smoothed fingers through his hair.

You whispered, "Want me to drive you back?"

"Nah, need to cool off."

You eyed him as a grin spread over your face. "I don't think that's possible."

* * *

You woke to a text from Phillip:

_I didnt go by your house every day_

You returned, _Just most days_

_Also I prefer these emojis_

The ones he sent were ridiculous: corn and squirting water, eyes, eggplant, growing heart with the peach and praying hands.

What an idiot.

_I like mine better_ , you replied and got out of bed.

_Mine r more expressive_

_Of what?_

_My night_

You can just imagine what he did last night. You wondered if he even made it home before jerking off. You wondered how big of a mess he'd made of himself and if he'd moaned your name when he came.

_What did you think about last night?_ you typed before heading to the bathroom.

When you came back, there was a single word waiting:

_You_

You replied, _Good_

You bet he'd typed more, but deleted it. Which was gratifying. It meant he was learning he couldn't just charge in with his lust and expect you to take it. Or reciprocate. Not that you didn't want him. He'd kissed with his whole body. His hands had felt amazing on your body, between your legs. You'd thought about how he'd fuck you.

_What r u wearing?_ he asked.

_Work clothes_

Which wasn't exactly true. You were still in your pajamas, but you had your clothes laid out. You didn't want to start anything since he didn't deserve it yet.

The phone buzzed as you did your hair and makeup. Your first instinct was to read his message, but you took a deep breath and finished what you were doing. The phone buzzed again, and you itched to see what he'd said. However, you made yourself put everything away first.

_Just came bk from a run_ , he said.

You almost choked on your spit when you saw he'd sent a picture of his body. His broad chest was bare and blotchy pink and sweaty in the morning light. A blue t-shirt draped over one wide shoulder. His running shorts hung just below the iliac furrows of his hips. If he was wearing underwear, you couldn't tell.

You saved the picture and said, _Thank you handsome_

You could feel him preen through the phone, though he said nothing.

* * *

After work, you stopped by Target to buy a set of Duplo blocks for Olivia and a gift bag. Maybe you shouldn't, since Annie said you didn't have to, but it wasn't expensive. And you didn't have nieces or nephews to buy for, anyway.

Phillip texted you, asking how work was. It hadn't been an exciting day, just a routine Monday. He said he'd been bored and thinking about you.

_Then you shouldnt have been bored_ , you replied, smirking to yourself.

_Boredom led me to thnk of u_

_I hope you didnt embarrass yourself_

_Took a long lunch break_

_I bet you did_

* * *

On Wednesday, the receptionist called your desk phone and said you had a delivery. You thanked her before coming out front. On her desk sat a bouquet in a riot of pinks and reds. She smiled at you, saying she'd already signed for it.

You nodded, speechless.

There was a little card poking from the middle of the bouquet. You dared not read it in the lobby, though. You thanked her again and walked the flowers to your desk. Everyone you passed gave you knowing grins. You were sure you'd be the talk of the office in a matter of minutes.

You sat with the gorgeous bouquet for a moment, admiring the arrangement of hot-pink roses and carnations in red and pale pink. In between, were small pink lilies. You caressed a thick petal of a rose and briefly buried your nose in the bloom to breathe in the sweet scent.

Plucking the card from the bouquet, you read the message:

> "Pretty flower!"
> 
> —Phillip

You smiled and shook your head before getting out your phone.

_Thank you for the flowers_ , you texted him.

_You're welcome_ , he replied. _Can I call you tonight?_

_I have skating tonight_

A second later, you added: _Dont show up at the rink_

You needed to concentrate. Phillip being there would only ruin that and make you self-conscious. Though Penny said you were awesome, and she was very proud of you, you were no pro. The very thought of Phillip watching you warm up with swizzles and twists made you shudder—let alone you attempting a toe-loop or chasse-ing around the rink.

_Please pretty flower_ , he said.

_No if you come to the rink I will ignore you on saturday_

_You cant ignore me_

_Watch me_

_Fine call me tomorrow_

That demanding little shit. You were about to refuse when the typing bubble popped up.

He sent, _Please?_

_Please what?_

_Please may I call you tomorrow?_

_Yes, tomorrow at 8_

* * *

You lounged on the couch, a single lamp switched on at the end of the golden hour. Phillip's bouquet was centered on the coffee table. You'd changed the water this morning, and the blooms appeared refreshed for it.

It was a little after eight when your phone rang. You checked the screen, though you knew who it would be.

"Hi," you answered.

There was a smile in Phillip's voice when he said, "Hey."

You grinned despite yourself. Any exasperation with him instantly vanished.

"Thank you again for the flowers. They're beautiful."

"They reminded me of you."

You rolled your eyes at his line. "Oh really?"

"Mm-hm."

"How so?"

"You know, soft and pretty."

"Even the roses?"

"Especially the roses."

"You know roses have thorns, right?"

"I definitely do."

You winced as you remembered calling him sloppy seconds on Sunday. You know you'd really hurt him.

He continued, "If I want to touch something so pretty, I've got to risk the thorns, right?"

"I guess you do." You sighed. "I'll give you early warning."

"That's fair."

After a quiet moment, you asked, "So, why _did_ you want to call?"

"Wanted to hear your voice."

"I'd rather listen to yours."

He purred, "Yeah?"

"Yeah, tell me something. Tell me about your day."

"I ordered swimming gear for the upcoming season and helped Paul sell softball cleats to high-schoolers."

You wryly said, "Well, that sounds _thrilling."_

"Eh, it filled the time 'til this evening."

"Counting the hours, huh?"

"That makes me sound desperate."

"Maybe, but I like it."

"You have a mean streak."

"Maybe." You let your head fall back as you smiled. "But _you_ like it."

"Yeah, I do."

"Tell me how you wanted me to ride you in my father's hot tub."

_"Jesus..."_ Something scratched against his phone's mic, and he cursed. "It was immature. Stupid."

"I'm sure it didn't stay that way."

"I remember wanting to see your wet tits bounce in my face."

"That's a start."

"I thought the water would feel good."

"It does."

He made a little sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper. "You fucked someone in that hot tub?"

"No."

"Oh."

"But I've been topless in it, and the water does feel nice."

You run your fingers under the curve of a breast, teasing yourself just a little.

He whispered, _"Fuck."_

"Tell me more."

"Sometimes I imagined you facing away and leaning back on me. I would pull you down on me. The sounds you'd make. I came so hard thinking about your ass bouncing on my dick."

"Would I moan?"

_"God,_ right in my ear. Your skin would slide against mine. So slick and hot."

"Are you hard, Phillip?"

"Yeah."

"Are you touching yourself?"

He paused before saying, "Yeah?"

"So selfish," you commented with a grin.

"Aren't you?"

"No."

"Are you wet?"

You didn't have to check, because you knew you were.

You answered, "Of course."

"Then why weren't you?"

"Because you were sharing a fantasy that had nothing to do with me."

"Are you kidding? All I'm thinking about is you."

"About how you wanted to use my body."

He drew in a breath. "But I—"

You gently shushed him. You weren't offended. "What do you want _now?"_

"I wanna kiss you so bad."

"I want that, too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I want to run my hands through your hair and pull your head back. I want to kiss your neck, suck on it."

_"Fuck yeah_ —I'd like that. I want you on top of me. Wanna touch your ass."

"Would you grind us together?"

You slid a hand under the waistband of your underwear to touch your clit. The thought of his big hands moving your hips sent a wave of heat through you.

"You'd feel so hot," he returned. "Your skin's so soft."

"I like your hands. You know how to use them."

"You know I'd do whatever you wanted with them." He breathed. "I want to turn you over and kiss my way down your back."

You could almost feel his lush mouth trail down your spine.

He asked, "Would you let me spread your legs and eat you out?"

You nodded before whispering, "Yes."

"Just wanna bury my face in that pussy."

You stroked your clit with two fingers to mimic his lapping tongue.

"Have you ever squirted?" he asked.

"Once."

It hadn't been huge, but it had left you wrung out and the sheets too wet to ignore. You wondered if he could give you that kind of orgasm. His fingers were strong and thick. You were sure he'd be able to find your g-spot and keep the pressure on it.

"Did you like it? Would you let me do it?"

You bit your lip and nodded. "Yeah."

_"God,_ I'd make you come like that." He swallowed. "Please tell me you're close."

"I'm getting there."

It was no lie. Your body was tight and straining. You kept stroking your clit, wishing it was his hands, his mouth, _his cock._ You wanted to grab his hair and force him to give you pleasure. You wanted to wreck him and leave him wanting only you.

He groaned. "You're gonna gush on my tongue, yeah? _Fuck._ I bet your pussy comes like a vice."

_"Phillip..."_

"Yeah, c'mon, come for me."

Your fingers squeezed around the phone. Your cheeks were like flames. You shook and canted your hips up with a whimper.

Distantly, you heard him say: "Oh fuck."

You nodded. _Fuck,_ yes, you wanted him to fuck you, wanted him to use all his skill to make you come over and over. The first swell of ecstasy had your head flopping back. You keened and pressed harder on your clit.

In your ear, he moaned and bit out curses. Your cunt clenched on nothing, but it was still so good. Your orgasm surged, and you closed your eyes to focus on it. You panted through it, mouth hanging open. You flexed against your fingers as it calmed, drawing out a few more pulses of orgasm, until you slumped onto the couch.

"Holy shit," he wheezed. "Saturday can't come quick enough."

* * *

He called you Friday night.

At first, you thought he only wanted to have phone sex again. Instead, he asked about your day and what you had for dinner. You discovered he was learning to cook. He wanted to make you something and have you over for dinner.

He asked, "You like pesto?"

"Sure."

"I got a real sexy recipe I think you'll like."

With a laugh, you asked, _"Sexy?"_

You could hear him gyrating with his words. "Yeah, sexy food."

"Is there unsexy food?"

"Depends on who's eating it."

"Even meatloaf?"

"Hey, a good meatloaf can rock your world."

"Make me a sexy meatloaf, then."

A smile infused his reply: "I can do that."

* * *

The balloons tied to the Altman mailbox swayed in the gentle breeze. Cole and a few of his friends played in the front yard. The back gate stood open with more balloons tied to the fence posts to catch party-goers' attention.

You wend your way between the cars in the driveway, hearing music and voices coming from the back of the house. At the gate, Judd's daughter almost ran into you as she led a few other kids to the front. They giggled as they darted around you.

Somehow, it made your nerves disappear. It was just a birthday party. Whether you left with Phillip or not at the end didn't matter.

As you stepped onto the crowded patio, Annie noticed you. She brightened and came for you with open arms. You hugged her before offering the gift bag. You'd wrapped the Duplo box in white tissue paper leftover from the holidays. It looked nice enough, and you were sure Olivia wouldn't care.

Annie put a hand on her chest. "Oh, you shouldn't have! But thank you!"

She led you to the patio table, where an outdoor umbrella had been set up. You were introduced to her parents and various relatives. Dr. Altman greeted you as she stepped through the open French doors, carrying a tray of crudites. You rushed forward to take the tray from her and set it in the middle of the table.

As Dr. Altman thanked you, Paul came around the other side of the house with Olivia in his arms. When he saw you, he directed Olivia's attention to you. She squealed and squirmed as you met him in the grass. It made you thankful you'd worn your floral button-up. She called you "pretty flower" despite Paul correcting her.

Like you minded. You hugged her anyway and let her pat your cheeks with sticky hands.

"Happy birthday," you said.

She exclaimed, "Happy cake!"

You put her down with a laugh, and she scampered to the patio to reign as Birthday Girl. Paul asked after you, but before you could answer, strong arms wrapped around your waist.

"Hey, pretty flower," a deep voice purred in your ear.

Paul good-naturedly looked heavenward—so much like Wendy—and left you with Phillip.

"Hey, handsome," you replied.

He nudged at your neck with his nose and kissed behind your ear. It sent a shiver down your spine.

He murmured, "It's Saturday."

You grinned and ran your hands over his bare forearms. "It sure is."

"Let's leave now."

You laughed and turned in his hold. He wore a plain t-shirt and jeans. You held his blushing face in your hands and pecked him on the lips.

"Not yet."

He groaned as he slumped and rested his forehead on your shoulder. You petted his hair in sympathy. He kissed your neck again, and his hands gripped your hips.

In a daring move, he yanked you forward to hump you once. You gasped, about to protest. He straightened with a look of satisfaction and offered his hand.

"Want something to drink?" he asked.

As you took his hand, you wondered if it was appropriate to ask for a huge pitcher of margaritas at a child's birthday party. You had a sneaking suspicion you were going to need it.

"Sure, what do you have?"

"Eh, the usual."

He steered you to the delicious-smelling kitchen, where Wendy was pulling an aluminum tray from the oven. A taco bar had been set up on the kitchen island. There were different protein options, plenty of toppings, and warm tortillas. You offered assistance, but Wendy said she had it.

In the meantime, Phillip slipped around her to get to the fridge. He rummaged through the fridge for a second before giving you a sly grin.

He said, "Can of _cock_ —I mean _Coke_ —good?"

Wendy squawked, "Jesus, Phillip!" and beaned him in the back of the head with a potholder.

"Sorry!" he said, not sounding sorry at all, as he fumbled to catch the potholder. "Or would you like a Dr. _Penis_ —I mean _Pepper?"_

"Get out of my kitchen!"

"Technically, it's Mom's kitchen."

Wendy's eyes widened as she tried to keep from smiling. "Out, you pain in my ass."

"Hey, not in front of the children!" Phillip admonished as he put the cans of soda over his ears.

She laughed, _"Out!"_

"Can we get tacos first?" he asked with a shit-eating grin.

You stepped closer to pull him away, when Wendy sighed and said to be quick. She gave you an indulgent, if annoyed, look before walking to the French doors and announcing the food was ready.

"You're a brat," you said, failing at seriousness, and handed him a paper plate.

He traded a can of soda for the plate. "I just like to rile her up."

"You seem to do that a lot with the women in your life."

"You sayin' I rile you up?"

You hummed in a not-reply and fixed yourself a couple of tacos. In all honesty, he piqued you most of the time—in the irritate and stimulate meaning. He was a brat and unrepentant flirt. He was also thoughtful and funny—you'd dare to say sweet.

He added, "Maybe I don't rile you up enough?"

Perhaps not that sweet.

"If you rile me up any more, you risk a spanking."

"I think I'd like that." He smirked, cheeks pink. "Are we talking paddle? Belt? _Hair brush?"_

"Yes," you cheekily replied as you finished topping your tacos.

You strolled to the patio, feeling him watching. You sat in one of the kitchen chairs that had been brought out and opened your soda. He joined you a moment later, his plate heaped with food.

He noticed you noticing his plate and shrugged. "I'm going to need the fuel for later."

"That so?"

"Yeah, I got a feeling I'm going to be up all night."

"If you do it right, you won't have to be."

"But if you get it right, why stop?"

You sipped your soda. "So, you're in the more-is-more camp?"

"I'm in the more-of-you camp."

You laughed at his cheesiness and shook your head. He smiled as he opened his soda one-handed, thirsty and unashamed. You picked up a taco from your plate and ignored him as you ate.

Of course, you dribbled on yourself. Luckily, your shirt was cotton and dark. The floral pattern hid the stain easily enough. However, Phillip saw it and bumped your shoulder when you were both done.

"Should probably get something on that," he said and nodded at the stain.

You glanced at it with a shrug. "I guess."

He stood and offered to take your dirty plate. "C'mon, I wanna get another anyway."

You looked around, but no one was paying attention to you two. The kids laughed at the table or were playing in the yard already. The parents talked while munching on crudites.

You thanked him, gave him your plate, and followed him inside. You detoured to the powder room to get a little hand soap on the stain.

As you scrubbed the soapy patch of fabric against itself, the door crept open. You looked into the mirror above the sink to see Phillip in the doorway. You rinsed out the soap and let him watch.

"How's it coming?" he asked.

You rung out the cool water. "Seems okay."

"You need a dry shirt."

He stepped behind you and put his hands on your hips. You buttoned your shirt, meeting his eyes in the mirror. You didn't think he kept clothes here, and you certainly couldn't borrow something of Wendy's or his mother's.

You softly said, "It'll dry quick in the sun."

He pressed himself to your back. His hands came around your hips at the top of your thighs. You touched his forearms as he pulled you against him. His growing erection was discernible, even through your jeans.

"Come upstairs. I'll get you a shirt."

"I don't think..."

His hands skimmed under your shirt to your waist. His thumbs touched your bare skin.

"Don't think. Just come upstairs with me."

"What about the party? What about all night?"

He murmured, "It doesn't matter."

His dark eyes simmered with want. You couldn't look away and you wondered if he'd looked like this on Easter. It had been too dark. But if he had, if you'd seen this look, you wouldn't have said no to bringing him inside.

"Let me touch you all over," he whispered. "Let me kiss you."

The unexpected sound of kids running and giggling through the kitchen made you jump. His grip tightened, and he tucked in closer.

_"Please."_

It was a bad idea, but you nodded. You shouldn't, but you took his hand and followed him to the staircase. Maybe it was stupid or rude, though it didn't stop you from going to the second floor.

Phillip's bedroom probably hadn't been touched save for cleaning since school. Two walls were pale green while the other two were gray. Band and movie posters dotted the walls. A multicolor-striped quilt covered the bed. Above the desk in the corner was a shelf populated with little cross-country trophies and plaques. The shades on the window next to the desk were half-closed, letting in strokes of sunlight to bleach the carpet.

He locked the door and stalked you back to the nearest wall. You reached for him when he was close enough, touching his cheeks and pushing your fingers into his thick hair. He kissed you, devouring and needy, and pressed his whole body against yours. His hands trailed down your back to grip your ass.

He broke the kiss to ask, "Do you know how good you look in these?"

"I'm beginning to."

You tugged him forward to kiss again. He groaned and ground against you. His tongue met yours, and it all became a blur of groping hands and nibbling teeth. You reached between your bodies to cup his hot groin. His balls were tight in your palm, and you gave them a gentle squeeze.

Phillip's chin tilted up with a soft _"ah"_ as he thrust into your hand. You kissed his jaw, his neck, and stroked him through the warm fabric. His erection pulsed at your touch. You bet his briefs were soaked with precome.

And you wanted to see—see those soiled briefs, see what other lovers couldn't say no to.

You softly ordered, "Take off your shirt."

He leaned back and whipped off his t-shirt. The big slabs of muscle of his chest and arms made you bite your lip to keep from praising him and bending forward to worship him all the way down. Instead, you undid his jeans and pushed at the fabric.

He helped, getting his underwear and jeans down his hips. His flushed cock, so hard and thick, jerked in the air. His dark pubic hair was trimmed and neat.

You understood the fascination now, because he was gorgeous like this.

A milky bead of precome rolled down his frenulum as you studied him, and you caught it with your thumb. You wrapped a hand around the fevered heft of his dick, smearing the silky precome over the tip.

"Oh shit," he whispered as he watched your hand. "I..." He swallowed and braced his arms on either side of you. "I need you."

"What do you need from me?"

You let go of his big cock, and his hips jumped forward. Ignoring that, you unzipped your pants and hooked your thumbs in your clothes.

He met your eyes and panted, "I need to be inside you."

"Oh yeah? Need to come deep inside me?"

His head flopped forward, and his cock bobbed in the air, as he groaned your name.

You went on: "I'd like to feel it. Want it running down my legs."

He swooped in to kiss you, eager and hard. So desperate now, so full of longing. You forgot about your clothes and swept your hands over the smooth skin of his back. He pressed you against the wall with his body. His cock dug into your belly.

His hands fisted your jeans and yanked them down. They snagged on your underwear, partially pulling them down as well. You didn't protest. You toed off your sandals instead and kicked them aside.

You grabbed his meaty ass for a second before he moved back to get your clothing off your legs. You kicked them aside too and leaned on the cool wall.

His hands skimmed your outer thighs as he straightened. The touch was just this side of firm enough so as to not to be ticklish, but it still raised goosebumps.

He dragged his front against yours as he came up for a kiss. You put an arm behind his neck to draw him in. He brought one of your legs up, and you hooked it around his hips. Then his lips were on yours. It was madness and heat. It made you dizzy. It made you want it all.

He rolled his hips, sliding his dick against you and leaving a smear of precome. You moved with him and moaned, because you were so close to getting him deep inside you. You needed it now, and you pulled at his heavy hair.

Against his puffy lips, you said, "Give it to me."

His expression went tight with gritted teeth. He made room between your bodies and fumbled for a second. His cock slid in your wet folds, and you writhed as it brushed your clit.

You slanted your hips and balanced with a hand on the wall next to you. Together, you found the proper angle and the tip of his cock pushed right inside. His knuckles bumped your mound as you both moaned. He felt like too much. The flared ridge of his cockhead ground against nerve endings you hadn't been aware of before.

"So tight," he growled.

You wanted to argue it was him, but your brain couldn't form a sentence. All you could do was hang on and take it. His dick pushed the air from your lungs, and you choked on another moan.

Phillip held you fast with one hand on your ass and the other holding the underside of your hooked leg. You hid your face in his neck and tried to catch your breath as he paused, buried fully inside you. Your soaked cunt impossibly fluttered. He shuddered and panted and kissed your hair.

"Can't wait," he said, strain evident in his voice.

"Then don't."

His grip tightened, and he started small. His dick rocked deep inside. You nodded and rubbed your lips on his neck. You tasted the salt of sweat on his skin. Then he began to move faster and farther, plunging deep with every thrust.

You trembled and clung to him as his cock hit you just right. His chest was tight to yours. You threw yourself against him and moved counter to him, making each thrust bigger and ratcheting you closer and closer to climax. He groaned a broken encouragement.

"Oh fuck, I'm gonna come," he suddenly warned and stilled. "I'm gonna come."

You clawed at his shoulders as he crushed you to the wall, all muggy heat and firm muscle. His cock throbbed, but you didn't feel the telltale spurt. You cried out as your cunt clenched in sympathy, because you were already on the edge of orgasm.

_"Phillip,"_ you begged and stretched to catch his red lips.

He gave you biting kisses and pushed his tongue against yours. His shoulders tensed as both hands held your ass. With no warning, he hoisted you off the floor. You yelped, hung on, and wrapped your other leg around his waist.

"Jesus fuck..."

You nodded. "Fuck me."

He dug his heels into the carpet and slammed up into you. That was what you'd been needing. You put a hand over your mouth to muffle the moans that punctuated each shove of his strong hips.

He took you like that, merciless and focused, with his stuttering breath in your ear. He held you to the wall and controlled your body. He hammered his cock inside you until you couldn't take it anymore. You twisted in his almost-bruising hold a second before your body locked. Then everything went blurry and quiet as you came in fierce surges of ecstasy.

He gasped your name, and you felt the first gush of his hot come. He flooded you with each pump of his dick. It was perfect and potent. You hugged him with arms and legs as he finally stilled. He panted as he mouthed at the hinge of your jaw.

Slowly, he sunk to the floor and took you with him. You settled on his partially covered thighs, loving the feel of him still inside you. For a moment, neither of you moved. You stared over his shoulder at the dim room beyond. You hadn't expected _that_ —any of that.

He kissed his way over your jaw to your lips. He moved slow and relaxed, his kiss wantonly easy. His hands smoothed up your back until he wrapped his arms around you.

You rested your forehead on his with a grin, keeping your eyes closed. "Wow."

"Yeah."

"I don't think I need just a shirt—"

A knock on the door interrupted you. Phillip's hold on you tightened as your cunt squeezed around his softening cock.

Through the door, Paul said, "Annie saved you two cake. Come down when you're finished."

You hid your hot face in Phillip's neck to laugh, "Oh my god!"

_"Thanks, Paul,"_ he called over his shoulder.

You didn't hear Paul leave, but you hadn't heard him approach either. You hoped your noises hadn't carried down to the first floor. Though with the way Dr. Altman openly talked about sex with Mort, you weren't sure that would be much of an issue.

_This family._

Gently, Phillip said, "How about we grab the cake and go to your place?"

You don't know how you would face his family, knowing they were aware of what you two had been doing, but you nodded anyway.

You huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, _someone_ still owes me 'all night.'"

"And that _someone's_ gonna deliver, too," he said with a grin and patted your ass.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://the-wayward-rose.tumblr.com/)


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